


Uncomfortably Charmed

by firefright, Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Hints of Slade/Dick, M/M, Matchmaking, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 06:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14183436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Slade doesn't train the rookies, that's one of his lines in the sand when it comes to working as an auror. No training, no naive ducklings following at his heels, and no responsibility for some stupid kid's life. Well, unless it's a direct order from President Prince, who is giving him exactly no choice in the matter. Then he supposes he'll have to deal with it; forexactlyas long as he has to.





	Uncomfortably Charmed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So, okay, primarily I (Skali) wrote this piece, but Firefright provided valuable help and also a few paragraphs, so I'm keeping them on here. It's happening. (I got agreement, don't worry.) Anyway, this piece was Fantastic-Beasts inspired, in that Slade is an auror and in MACUSA but that's about as much of Wizard-America as you're going to hear about because I think JK's worldbuilding of it is just really terrible.
> 
> (Look, I just wanted an excuse to write magic-Slade flinging people around and being an enormous asshole. So enjoy. XD)

Slade eyes the pictures he’s holding up in one hand, leaned back in his chair and with both boots propped up on the corner of his desk. The angle helps the light catch them just right, highlighting the spatter of blood that’s slowly dripping down the wall. It’ll reset itself when he’s not looking.

Murder, obviously, unless some idiot actually managed to filet themselves this neatly by accident. Generally speaking, idiots like that don’t get wand permits, and don’t end up in situations where it’s possible to cause things like this to happen.

The knock on his door is something he notes and then ignores. Anyone knocking doesn’t need his attention enough to bother with, and he’s not catering to people with no spine. An unlocked door shouldn’t be an impediment to anyone who has the authority to force him to pay attention.

Maybe he should go down to one of the examination rooms. It’s an old case, but they should still have the recreation filed away down there. He can get a better look at this place than the pictures are giving, and without the not-necessarily-accurate movement of the blood on the wall and the curtains swaying from whatever breeze might have existed at the time. He’d have preferred to see the scene himself, but the department doesn’t like him disturbing new tenants with old investigations. If there’s nothing in the recreation, then he’ll go. Then he has ‘permission.’

The door opens slightly, and a head pokes in through the crack. No one important would be that shy, or call him, “Mr. Wilson?”

He doesn’t bother answering the voice any more than the knock, swapping to the next picture. This time, unfortunately, it doesn’t scare the lackey away.

His door is opened, a quiet, “Come in,” spoken to someone clearly not him as the lackey gingerly approaches his desk and stops in front of it. “Mr. Wilson, I have a new trainee for you? I believe you were sent a form about it?”

Mm. Yeah, the little folded up paper mouse that he’d taken one look at the headline of and immediately shredded into pieces.

“I don’t train fresh meat,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the picture. That’s an odd angle for the chair to have been knocked over. “Tell the President to send him off to someone who gives a damn.”

The lackey pales a little, but surprisingly enough holds his ground. Slade must be losing his touch. His voice has the distinct sound of memorization when he says, “The President said you have to take him for a week, then she’ll transfer him if you still feel that way.”

The kid behind the lackey shifts, but doesn’t say anything. Slade refuses to look at either of them, snorting softly and switching to another picture. “I feel that way now. Go back and tell her no.”

He sees the wince out of the corner of his eye, and then the reach into the man’s coat pocket. He pulls out a distinctively red letter, holds it as far away as his arm will allow, and breaks the seal. Slade watches the letter flick into the air, fold itself up with sharp movements and hover there, looking down at him.

The lackey cringes (the kid doesn’t) as the thunder of president Prince’s voice fills the room and makes the things on Slade’s desk shake.

_“THAT’S AN ORDER, SLADE.”_

Really, setting itself on fire at the end is a little dramatic for his tastes, but it gets the point across. He frowns at the little pile of ash left behind. He doesn’t really like things being demanded of him, but he supposes he can concede to this one. For now. It’s only a week, and the kid’s probably irritating enough that he’ll be able to ditch him once the time is done without a moment of hesitation or dishonesty. He doesn’t do partners.

“Fine. Get out.”

The lackey seems all too pleased to obey, and the kid hovers there for a moment in indecision before starting to follow.

“Not you. Come over here.”

Slade drops his boots off the desk and turns the chair, tossing the pictures onto the desk and turning himself to actually face the kid. Six feet, early twenties, short black hair with a white streak at the left temple and blue-green eyes. He’s glaring. Hm. Fresh from training, probably, and here for the required internship to make sure he can actually cut it as an auror. Well, at least he’s easy enough on the eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asks, scanning the lines of the kid’s torso and legs. He’s fit, and the grey slacks and white semi-formal shirt show it well. Kid’s either got surprisingly good fashion sense, or someone else buys his clothes. No wedding band, so not a wife. Girlfriend? Mother? A male partner?

“Pretty sure it was on that form.”

Slade files the pointed sarcasm away, and doesn’t quite smirk how he wants to. Kid’s got balls to mouth off to him, that’s good. “Didn’t read it. I can call you ‘kid’ if you’d rather.”

The kid either doesn’t try or isn’t good enough to hide the little grimace he makes at that idea. “Jason Todd,” comes pretty quick after that.

“Alright, Todd. Standard internship through the auror program, right? Means you shadow a senior auror for a month, then take a basic competency test to get accepted. Anything special about you in that form I didn’t read?”

Todd takes that last step forward and sits down in the chair in front of his desk, holding his gaze and very clearly challenging him to say anything. “Yeah, probably.”

Touché. Alright, so the kid’s not terrible. Maybe the week won’t be so bad.

“Well, you’re not an ass-kisser. That’s a good start.” Slade taps his fingers against the desk, considering. “Got your wand on you?”

“Yes, sir.” He doesn’t reach for it.

"Good." Slade gets to his feet, adjusting his coat and heading for the door with an easy, long stride. "Come on then, rookie."

The scrape of the chair and subsequent footsteps let him know he's being followed, as if there was really any other option, and Slade leaves the door open for Todd to follow him through. He hears the click of it shut again, and leads the way off down the corridors towards the main bullpens of the aurors.

"Know how to apparate?" he asks over his shoulder. Gets a quick 'yes' in answer. "Good. You can't in here except in designated areas so don't try. It's a security measure; get used to walking and learn the layout. You're a rookie, not an errand boy; you'll get the shit jobs but don't let anyone pawn work off on you or harass you into doing things for them that aren't in your job description. If people don't respect you, they won't take orders from you, you'll never get anywhere. Play the game right or don't bother playing at all."

Todd hurries to catch up a bit, coming up closer behind his shoulder. "I thought you didn't want to train me."

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do a shit job of it now I'm stuck with you. You pay attention, maybe you can learn a thing or two before someone else takes over." The rustle of paper and swell of conversation heralds the approaching room. "Head up, Todd. Try not to let them get to you, hm?"

The catcalls are expected, but not all aimed towards Todd. There are a couple other fresh, young faces in the room. That time of year, apparently. (One seems to be making coffee, and Slade almost snorts at that particular image. He _did_ warn Todd; just because he doesn't train rookies doesn't mean he doesn't know how they work.) No one addresses him in those catcalls, and that suits him just fine. He’s not interested in intervening.

They’re only about halfway through the room when Todd yelps and crashes to the floor behind him, and Slade turns on one heel to look down at him. He’s wincing, shaking out an ankle and pushing up, and Slade doesn’t need instincts half as good as he has to know that the trip is not even remotely Todd’s fault. The other aurors (most of them, anyway) are laughing, and Slade takes a glance around the room at faces. One is more smugly pleased than the rest, and he fixes there. Physical is something different.

The power is warm in his veins as he brings a sharp hand up, reaching out and yanking the chair the auror is sitting in out from behind his desk. He yelps too, and Slade draws his wand with the other hand as the man reels, nearly toppling over. A single flick of it pulls the auror into the air before he can catch his bearings, pinning him in place a dozen or so feet up and very much at his mercy. The room goes silent, tense.

“Not mine, boys,” Slade announces, looking around the room with one slow sweep. “Hands off, or you deal with me.”

He sets him down nicely enough once he’s made his point. Back in the chair and everything, even if he does get dropped the last couple feet. The man is still deathly pale; he’ll recover at some point.

Slade tucks his wand back away. Todd is staring up at him, and he gives a quiet snort. “Get up, kid; let’s go.”

Todd doesn’t scramble, to his credit. He’s deliberate and even about it, and he doesn’t say anything when Slade turns and continues through the room, just follows. There’s no other interruption to their crossing, apart from the man leaning against the door frame at the other end, one eyebrow raised and a faint smile on his face.

“Slade.”

“Grayson.”

He doesn’t stop, but Grayson falls into step beside him with practiced ease, shuffling the files in his arms. “I don’t think that was really necessary, you know.”

“I think it got my point across.”

Grayson laughs. “You just like it when they’re scared of you. I heard you got saddled with a recruit; this him?” He only grunts confirmation, and Grayson turns his head to look back. “Mm. Good luck, rookie. I'll see you later, Slade. Try not to get any more reports filed against you before the end of the day, hm?”

Slade doesn't promise anything, and Grayson doesn't wait for him to. He breaks off down a side corridor, leaving the two of them behind to continue on their way. Slade hears Todd speed up a touch, come up close to his side almost in mimicry of where Grayson was standing.

"Who was that?"

The tone of it makes Slade turn his head to look at him, and he finds the kid looking back over his shoulder towards the corridor Grayson went down. There's a look on his face that Slade's seen before, and this certainly isn't the first time that he's seen it aimed towards Grayson. Surprise. Desire. He snorts.

"Dick Grayson. Adopted son of the director and the department's golden boy." Slade flicks his fingers to nudge Todd with just enough power to make him stagger. The glare he gets in answer is better than that admiring look. "Get your head together, Todd. You'll have plenty of opportunities to stare at him later; he's usually around here somewhere."

"I wasn't—”

Another flick, he smirks at the resulting curse. "You're not the first to look at Grayson like that, kid, and you won't be the last. He's heir to the Wayne household and talented on top of it; he's got enough admirers to fill any party his family throws."

Todd glances back one more time, and Slade decides to let him get away with it. “Really?” It’s nearly forlorn, and Slade rolls his eyes while the kid’s not looking at him.

He says, “I’ve slept with him,” mostly just to see the reaction, and Todd doesn’t disappoint.

He misses a step all on his own, nearly tripping and then hurrying to catch up. “Wait, _what?_ You’ve—”

“Fucked,” Slade fills in. “Yeah, sure.” They reach the elevator, and he hits the button to summon it and shifts back to wait. “Grayson’s a good lay, if you can convince him to be interested. Not easy, but possible; he’s got his pick, after all.”

“He picked _you?_ ”

“Don’t be so surprised, kid.” The elevator arrives, and he turns his head as he steps into it, to give a smirk and a drawled, “I’m _charming_.”

“Where you headed?” the house elf asks, glaring up at both of them.

“Training facilities,” Slade supplies, and watches Todd slip in to the other side.

He’s a little surprised when the doors close and the kid looks down to say, “Thank you.” The house elf is surprised too, but only gives a small nod and a little dip of its head.

Smart, or kindhearted? Does it matter either way? Being kind to the non-humans will make them more likely to help him if he ever needs it; it’s a good play no matter the reasoning behind it. Slade doesn’t bother with it himself, but then he doesn’t bother being nice to anyone, the non-humans are no exception.

The elevator takes only a few seconds to reach their destination, and the moment the doors open Slade is leading the way out and down the hallway ahead. Todd is starting to adjust to his movements; this time he moves forward without having to scrabble to keep up. “You been down here yet?”

“No.”

Slade nods. “You need to practice your skills or just take out some frustration, this is where you come to. Offensive spellcasting anywhere else inside the precinct outside of an emergency gets your ass dragged up in front of the director.”

“What you just did up there wasn’t offensive?” Todd asks wryly.

Slade snorts, “Defensive. Keeping you from being made a fool of anymore than you already had.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Slade selects an empty training room and pushes his way inside. The moment Todd follows him, he shuts the door and engages the protective spells that will keep any damage they do contained from the outside and then points at the kid to take position in the center of the room.

“All right, rookie, if I’m going to be dragging you round after me for the next week then I need to know what you’re made of. Offense, defense and everything in between.” He shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on the hook beside the door before turning back. “Wand out, kid. Let’s see your stance.”

Todd shifts, drawing his wand with a flick of his wrist and holding it there. Down low at his side, his body turned to provide a minimal target, wand tip safely pointed towards the ground but not straight down. Ready, but not threatened. That’s decent. He’s planting his weight too much, but it’s decent. Slade eyes it as he rolls up each sleeve, taking his time to get the folds tight enough he’s sure they’ll stick once they’re up past his elbows. He lets his gaze dip to his own arms as he finishes, and watches Todd ease slightly out of the stance from his peripheral vision.

Slade’s wand comes to his hand with an easy pull of power, and before Todd’s done more than flinch he strikes.

His spell smacks Todd into the far wall with enough force to bruise, but that’s all he gets from the initial advantage of the ambush. A second spell is deflected in a burst of skittering light, and Todd shoves off the wall and lashes out in turn. His lips are pressed into a thin line in concentration, hand light but not loose on his wand. Steps are looser now that he’s moving, dodging as much as blocking. Good; conserves energy.

Two things become quickly apparent. The kid’s aggressive, and he’s powerful. He needs work, undoubtedly, but he’s not afraid and he’s got strength to throw around and those are two very good building blocks. Power nearly always falls in the face of skill though.

The spell he throws is all distraction, big and flashy and not meant to do anything but hide the movement of his left hand as he reaches out with a bit of power and slips right under the shield to pull Todd’s ankle out from under him. It’s a gasp and not a yelp this time, but Todd staggers all the same, and that provides more than enough opportunity to cast a sharp, fast disarm. His wand goes spinning out of his hand.

Todd’s gaze follows it for a brief second, hand already rising to call it back, but that brief second is all Slade needs. One sharp movement of his wand, the incantation bold in his mind, calls out thick black rope to coil around Todd’s body and bring him to his knees. A second gives a flash of white light that intercepts the incoming wand, sending it skittering away again in the final moments before Todd’s hands are flattened against his thighs.

Todd is struggling, but Slade knows that alone won’t get him anywhere. The kid would need his wand to properly channel enough strength to get him loose, or much more mastery of wandless magic than he has. If he’s capable of any. (Calling a wand to hand doesn’t really count; that’s practically instinctive.) With the power he’s shown, he should. If he’s got enough focus to do silent spellcasting, then it’s not much further to do at least rudimentary wandless as well.

“You could be much worse,” Slade grants, summoning Todd’s wand to his free hand and then stepping forward to crouch in front of him. Todd glares, but doesn’t say anything. “Why don’t you tell me what you could have done better?”

A jerk against the ropes pulls them a little tighter, and Todd stills with a frustrated huff of breath as he glares down at the ropes. He takes a breath, sitting back on his heels and apparently giving into the restraints for now.

Slade’s pleasantly surprised by the grumbled admission of, “Everything,” that Todd gives, not quite looking at him.

He nods his approval, twisting Todd’s wand between his fingers. It matches his size; long and thick enough that snapping it would take a bit of effort. Willow; don’t see many of those among aurors, but then Slade’s seen all sorts of things that break expectations in his time working here. A traditionally healing wand is hardly the strangest. Hell, healing can be a handy tool to have out in the field.

“At least you’re self aware. More specifically, don’t keep shields up unless you’re facing an attack from multiple fronts; just because you have power to waste doesn’t mean it’s a good habit to fall into. You knew I could do wandless magic; assume everyone you face can and you’ll end up surprised a lot less. And if you’re reduced to calling for your wand, at least _try_ to give some other distraction.”

He severs the ropes with a quick flick of his wand, offering Todd’s back to him. The wariness the kid takes it with isn’t really unfounded, but there’s no reason for it this time.

“Get up; we’re going again,” Slade tells him, as he turns his back and moves to the other side of the room. “Try to do better this time, kid.”

His wand feels it a fraction before his instincts kick in.

Slade ducks to the side and spins to raise a shield at the same time, and the curse blasts past him with only a few inches to spare. Todd's back on his feet, already moving to cast something else, and Slade allows himself a thin smirk as he shifts to counter.

Well, that's certainly better.

* * *

Todd's not as massively annoying as Slade was expecting him to be. He's smart, he's focused, and he stays out of the way which is really the part Slade likes the most. He shadows, but he's not constantly at Slade's heels and he doesn't make a nuisance of himself, which is more than Slade can say for any other recruit he's seen trained. For all his height and aggressive tendencies, Todd's remarkably good at fading into the background when needed.

That, and he turns utterly silent and awkward whenever Grayson is anywhere in the vicinity, and it's probably the funniest thing that Slade's been witness to in a long time. Poor kid has a hell of a crush. It's almost worth the enforced mentoring all by itself.

"You might as well just ask him out," Slade comments, leaning back in his chair and watching Todd examine a few photos from an old crime scene. It's solved already, but he wants to see if Todd will pick out the same details he did.

It catches him entirely off guard, as Slade meant it to, and Todd nearly chokes on his next breath. He coughs, hand bracing against the desk and the other going to cover his mouth until he manages to breathe again. Slade watches with a smirk.

"No, I'm not—” Todd gestures vaguely, leaning back in his own chair and then crossing his arms defensively. "I'm not even a full auror yet, and he's…” A helpless shrug. Todd scowls. "I'd really rather not talk about this."

Slade ignores the request. "Generally speaking actual verbal contact is needed to get anywhere." He twists his hand to pull a pencil off his desk, lifting it into the air with an idle twirl of his fingers and spinning it there. It takes just enough concentration to give Todd a break from his focus. "I suppose you could start sending him flowers. Or useful charms. They probably won't blend in with the rest of what he gets, if you're clever enough."

Todd's blushing now. It's cute. "You're a jackass."

“I’ve been called worse. Doesn’t make me wrong though.”

Slade lifts his head as there’s a firm rap on his door, followed by it immediately opening. Todd twists in his chair, then scrambles up from it entirely when the figure striding in becomes apparent.

“Madam President!” He backpedals out of the way, gives half of some kind of salute even, and Slade barely restrains a snort.

Slade directs the pencil back down into his cup, turning his chair with mild reluctance. “Don’t kiss ass, kid. She’s human just like you or me.”

She raises an eyebrow before turning her head to look at Todd, smiling with a gentle ease that’s probably what made her popular enough to win an election. That, and the fact that she can fling just about anyone in this building around without breaking a sweat. The assassination attempts are usually highly entertaining to watch.

“Your respect is appreciated, Todd. Thank you.” She looks back at him, taking a couple steps forward to stand across the desk from him. “Slade.”

“Diana.” There’s a moment of silence. One of her eyebrows rises as it goes on, and finally he frowns. “What?”

He has the distinct impression that he’s missing something, and that feeling is confirmed when she glances over at Todd and then points out, “It’s been a week.”

Slade blinks, but hides his surprise behind a scoff and a drawled, "The days just blend together I guess. Fine, go on then.”

Todd gets it a moment later, and it’s subtle but Slade can see his expression fall a little. He wipes it away a moment later though, standing tall and only dipping his head a little. Good boy. “Thank you for the training, sir.” There’s a pause, then Todd lifts his head and adds, “I’ve really enjoyed it.” It even sounds sincere.

Slade only offers a nod, and Prince extends a hand to guide Todd out of the room. “Come, we’ll find you someone else to finish your apprenticeship.”

As if anyone else can do a better job of preparing the kid for the realities of this job. They’ll teach him to be some suck up ladder climber, stuck in mediocrity like most of the rest of this department. Good, but not great. That’s a shame, really. The kid’s got enough power and enough spine to be great, if the work is put in. If anyone else can really recognize and bring out his potential.

Damn it all.

“If you have trouble finding anyone else, I suppose he could come back.” The way Diana looks at him makes him think he’s just fallen into a trap, but he meets the slight smile and knowing gaze steadily. “If there’s no other option.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are other options,” she comments, around the smile. “But if you _wanted_ him to stay I suppose that could be arranged.”

He frowns. He’s never liked being manipulated, however subtle or blatant, especially when people think they can get away with it and he’ll just do what they want him to. Suspending the president in the air for just a little bit, just enough to get his dislike across, is probably something he shouldn’t allow himself to do, but it is tempting.

Todd’s the one to break their stare, the kid’s arms crossing as he says, “If it makes a difference, I’d like to stay.”

Slade’s teeth set together. Damn the kid for his sincerity and damn his own sentimentality that he’s apparently got some sort of soft spot for that sort of honesty. The kid’s… not bad. He probably won’t get sick of him that fast. Not that he can give in now without losing face, and he’s not fond of being gotten the better of.

Hm, maybe he can still turn this around.

He draws his wand with a flick of motion, startling Todd into a small flinch and an apparently instinctive twitch towards his own. He says the verbal, “Muffliato,” purely for Diana’s comfort, not that Slade thinks she’d flinch even with him casting some unknown spell her direction.

There’s no outward indication, except that one eyebrow rises into a high arch as she watches him. Slade doesn’t smirk; there are limits to what she’ll tolerate. She can read his lips if she really wants to; he’s not done anything harmful.

“Alright, kid,” he starts, turning his gaze towards Todd. “You want to stay with me for the rest of the month?”

“Yes.” Todd is glancing at Diana, something a little unnerved in his expression. “Did you seriously just…? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“She’s fine. Why should I let you, Todd? You knew from the start that this was temporary. Any reason you can give that I should change my mind about that?”

Todd rallies, pulling his gaze away from the president and to Slade, giving him the rest of his attention. He gets a narrow-eyed look, before Todd shifts his head in what looks like a self-confirming nod and says, “Because you want to. You’re a bastard and you don’t like most people and you wouldn’t even offer to let me stay if you didn’t want me to. I don’t know whether you’re testing me or you want something but either way, just say it.”

Not bad at all. Slade lets himself smirk this time. “What would you do to stay?”

Todd looks suspicious now, which is probably justified. “Something within reason. Why?”

“Because I don’t like being manipulated into agreeing to what other people want,” he says, turning his expression and words at Diana for that one. She braces a hand on her hip and lifts that eyebrow a little further. He turns back to Todd. “You can stay, _if_ you ask Grayson out. Today.”

“ _What?_ ” Todd stays in shock for a good second, before it turns into anger and his arms drop, expression turning into a glare. “That’s not— You— Are you fucking serious right now? You’re holding all this hostage to make me ask someone on a _date?_ ”

Slade looks at Todd’s telegraphing gestures with dry amusement, not answering the question. It’s rhetorical anyway.

Todd visibly grinds his teeth together, and then whirls on a heel and stalks towards the door. Diana turns to watch him go, but Slade is still the only focus of his gaze when he jerks the door half open and then turns to snap, “Screw you, I’m staying!”

The door slams shut, and Slade flicks his wand again to disable the charm he put up. Diana looks back at him, that eyebrow still arched high, her expression demanding an answer even before she asks, “What was that, Slade?”

“Matchmaking.” He tucks his wand away, leaning back in his chair and propping both feet up on the corner of the desk. “He can stay.”

She shakes her head, something like exasperation drawing her brow into a small furrow. “Don’t scare that kid off, alright? He’s going to be a good auror someday.”

“It’s fine; he’s got enough temper and spine to stand up to Grayson’s, and he’s not bad looking either. They’ll like each other now that Todd’s got some incentive to actually untie his tongue and say anything while within a fifteen foot radius of him.” Slade reaches for the pictures on the other side of the desk, tapping them into a neat pile. “Besides, it would be a shame to let one of your men turn that kid into another of your mediocre lackeys; he’s got more potential than that.”

She’s composed enough not to shake her head any more, but Slade can still see that tinge of exasperation before she turns and heads for the door. “I’ll send you the paperwork. Fill it out this time, please.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

He doesn’t mean it, and he’s sure she doesn’t believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find Skalidra's Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [You can find Firefright's Tumblr here!](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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